


Apology

by redeem147



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-07-29
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:57:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redeem147/pseuds/redeem147
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Spike return from Africa, written before season 7.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He laid the single rose in front of the headstone, and knelt on the grass.

 

“I’ve been away. No one knows I’m back. Thought I’d talk to you first, if you don’t mind.

 

I made a bloody mess of it, Joyce. I promised you I’d look after them both, and I screwed up. Didn’t pay enough attention to Dawn. And Buffy; well, I still can’t tell you what I did to her. Times I think you woulda been better to use the business end ‘a that ax on me in the first place.

 

I wished I’d told you, while you were still here. You meant so much to me. You took me inta your home, treated me like a person, like a mom would. You gave me those little marshmallows in my cocoa, that extra touch. You were so special. I should a told you. You probably thought I was just bein’ nice to get close to Buffy, and at first that was true, but not in the end. I didn’t even mind your little gallery stories. Not that much, anyway.

 

Buffy and I, what we had was wrong. We hurt each other, in too many ways. I woulda said I had the worse end ‘a the stick, up until the very last. I’d have to say I tipped the scale, though. You can hate me for eternity, and it’s not more than I deserve.

 

But I’ve got a soul, now, Joyce, for what that’s worth. Yeah, me, just like the big poof. Ya see, I still think Buffy loves me, all told, and I want to be worth it. Even if she never shows me, never trusts me again, I want to be the best person I can. Back her up. Be there for her.

 

So, I’m sorry. Sorry I couldn’t be the kind of man you treated me like. I hope I can get it right now.”

 

He stood, touched his hand to his lips, and grazed the top of the tombstone with his fingertips. “Bye, dear Joyce.”

 

As he turned to leave, his eyes fell on a freshly sodded grave with a small stone. He gasped. “No. Oh, dear God, no.”


	2. Chapter 2

He stood in front of the tombstone in shocked silence. ‘Tara McClay. 1981 - 2002. Beloved.’

 

“My God, witch.” He exclaimed. “What happened?”

 

Images flashed into his mind. Tara at the party, teasing. Seemingly knowing more than he thought anyone would. Offering ice for his ‘cramp’. Driving with her in the camper, her shattered mind spouting out tattered phrases, while Willow looked on like her heart would burst. Hitting her in the nose, just so they could get on with things.

 

“I’m sorry, pet. Sorry I hit you. I mean, it turned out okay, but it must have hurt. Wish I’d thought of another way.”

 

What was Willow going through? How could she cope? Did she pour herself into helping someone else, the way he had with Dawn when he lost Buffy? Had she fallen apart?

 

And what the hell had happened? How could such a vibrant thing be dead?

 

“I wasn’t here. I’m sorry for that too. I don’t know what happened, but maybe I could have stopped it. Saved you.”

 

Poor Dawn. Tara had been like a mother to her, this last year when Buffy was so distant. He had to take some responsibility for that, too. And she and Buffy had been friends. So much pain his Slayer had to bear.

 

He realized with regret that he would never see her shy smile again. Realized how much he would miss it. Realized that he had lost a friend. Realized that he was kneeling on her gravesite; that there were tears in his eyes.

 

He stood up and wiped the grass from his knees. Obviously, he wasn’t the only thing in Sunnydale that had changed.

 

Time to head home; regroup. He’d think about what he would tell the others.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been months. He walked towards the crypt, ever mindful of the possible presence of other vampires, but none materialized. Suddenly, it was just him and the crypt door. It seemed smaller, somehow. He pushed it open cautiously, wondering if anything evil had taken up residence during his absence.

 

Miraculously, his things were still intact. His chair was in place, his refrigerator humming, and his television on the stand where he’d left it. He had fully expected the need to replace his belongings. He could hear footfalls on the ladder, coming up from the lower level. Obviously, this had been to good to be true. He picked up a small marble statue and waited by the hole in the floor. A head emerged, and he wound back to strike.

 

And stopped. “Clem?”

 

“Spike?” The wrinkly demon thrust himself up through the hole. “Spike. You’re back!” Clem caught the vampire in a happy bear hug and squeezed.

 

“Yeah, I’m back. Lucky I still don’t need air.” He pushed away from his friend. “Watch the chest, though. Still a tad tender.”

 

“Where have you been?”

 

“Africa. Long story.” He looked around the upper chamber. “You been here all summer?”

 

“Yep.” He walked over to the fridge and pulled a blood pack out of the freezer. “You want a drink? I keep some here, just in case.”

 

“Love some.” He flopped into his comfortable chair, while Clem popped the bag in the microwave and hit defrost. “You’re a right wonder. Lookin’ after my stuff.”

 

He poured the blood into a mug and placed it back in the oven to heat it. “Didn’t want anything to happen to it. You’re my friend. Besides...” He took the warmed liquid from the microwave and passed it to Spike. “You get better TV reception than I did.”

 

“Thank you.” Spike took a sip. “Not just for this. I mean thank you. Thanks for lookin’ after the crypt, thanks for the shoulder, thanks for putting up with all my bloody whining. Means a lot.” He drank a big swig of the blood.

 

“Oh, I didn’t think.” Clem picked a bottle from the counter. “Do you want a little something extra in that?”

 

“No thanks. Trying to cut down.” He put down the mug, stood up and looked at his friend. “I took advantage. Poured out all my troubles to you, and never even bothered to ask if you had any of your own. Wasn’t the best of mates.”

 

“What are you talking about? You’re a great friend. I missed you.”

 

“Yeah, well, sorry about that too. Just took off with hardly a word. Wasn’t fair to you. Instead a getting ticked off, you decide to watch my stuff. You’re one of the good ones.” He looked a little closer at the room. Scattered among his possessions were touches that weren’t his. A picture on the wall of cats playing poker. Framed photo of some dark haired girl. She looked familiar. “I want you to have this place. Keep it.”

 

“But what about you? This is your home.”

 

“Feels like your home now. Just do me a favor. Let me stay with you ‘til I find something else.”

 

“You want us to be roommates?” Clem scratched his bald head. “Cool!”

 

“You’re one in a million, mate.” He finished the last drops of his blood. “There’s some people I need to see. Things I need to say. I’ll be back later.”

 

“Sure. No problem.” Clem put his hand on Spike’s shoulder. “Just glad to have you back.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“And Spike?”

 

“Um?”

 

“Nice soul.”


	4. Chapter 4

He hadn’t expected to see her, not yet. But there she was, sitting on the curb in front of the convenience store with her friend Janice, sucking on a slurpee. He wanted to talk to her alone, when the time was right, so he tried to duck into an alley. It was too late. She’d seen him.

 

“Spike?” She didn’t call it out, didn’t run to meet him, just sat and stared at him until he came to her.

 

“Bit.”

 

Dawn looked over at her friend. “Janice, could you leave us alone for a minute? We need to talk.”

 

The young woman looked from one to the other, sensed the tension, and only too happily replied, “I’m going over to Butterflies Boutique. See if they have anything new. I’ll catch you later.” She dumped her paper cup in the trash and ran off across the street.

 

“You’re back.” Dawn looked down into the icy green substance in her oversized cup.

 

He sat down beside her on the curb. “Yeah. Just got home.” He folded his hands in his lap and avoided eye contact with her.

 

“I missed you. I’m angry as spit with you, but I missed you.”

 

“I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye. I’m sorry.”

 

She took a sip from the straw. “That’s not why I’m angry. Not all of it.” She put the drink on the curb beside her. “Xander told me what happened.”

 

“With Anya? You knew about that before I left. I thought you were beginning to understand.”

 

She wrapped her arms around her knees. “Xander found Buffy in the bathroom, after you were there. I know what you did.”

 

His head snapped up, and he looked at Dawn, then turned away. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to know. He shouldn’t have told you. It wasn’t fair.”

 

“I can handle it. I don’t understand it, but I can handle it. I just don’t know if I can be your friend anymore.”

 

He expected it from Buffy. Not from Dawn. “That’s fair,” he croaked. He rubbed at the corner of his eye. “If I could take it back, I would. She stopped me, you know. Snapped me out of it. I hated myself more than you ever could.”

 

“Where were you?”

 

“Africa. Makin’ some changes. If it helps, I don’t think I’d ever try anything like that now.”

 

“We’ll see.” Dawn stood up. “I’m going to find Janice. Maybe we can talk later.”

 

He looked up at her. “How’s Buffy?”

 

“Better. More alive. Treats me pretty good. I’ve started training.”

 

“Well, well. You’ll be a Scooby yet.” He stood up, brushed off the seat of his pants, and looked at her. She was as tall as he was, now. “I missed you. I want to be friends.” He reached his hand out towards her cheek, then pulled back.

 

“We’ll see.” She started to step onto the street, then turned around. “Welcome home.”

 

He wiped the tears from his eyes. When they cleared, she was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

He’d forgotten to ask Dawn about Tara. Understandable, with what had happened. He’d been sure that Buffy wouldn’t have told Dawn about the bathroom, but he’d never expected Xander to. Never expected Xander to have known. He’d thought the incident would remain between him, Buffy and his own self-loathing.

 

But he did want to know about the witch. Anya would know the details. Shop should still be open. Besides, he had a little unfinished business with her, too.

 

The shop wasn’t open. One lone light shone though the cracked glass, and as he pushed through the unlocked door, a whistle forced itself though his lips. Everywhere was splintered wood, books half buried beneath the debris. The top level had fallen onto the bottom. The place was pretty well unrecognizable. At the sound he made a young man spun around.

 

“You.” Xander glared at the vampire. “You’re back. Living dangerously, I see. There’s a lot of pointy wood around this place.” He picked up a piece from the floor. “And I’m just the man to use it.”

 

“It wouldn’t surprise me if you did,” Spike replied. “But if anyone stakes me, it’ll be Buffy.” He looked at the wreckage. “What happened here?”

 

“Willow happened. Sweet, shy Willow. You never know, do you?” Xander tossed the piece of wood on the pile. “I should just leave you to Buffy. She’ll deal with you soon enough.”

 

“Willow?”

 

“Yeah. She was hurting pretty bad.” He turned his back on Spike and pulled out a measuring tape, running it across the floorboard.

 

“Tara?”

 

He turned around and looked at Spike. “You heard?”

 

“I saw. Her headstone. What happened?”

 

“You know, you’d think in Sunnydale, it would have been something apocalyptic. Something earth shattering. Not just a stray bullet.” He ran the tape up the side of the wall. “Guess it shattered Willow’s world.”

 

“So, what are you doing here? You and Anya back together?”

 

Xander laughed, a bitter, resigned laugh. “Not likely. But, the money from the insurance just came through. Took awhile; no clause for ‘act of witch’, and the company I work for is rebuilding the store. Hence, I measure.”

 

“So,” Spike asked, “where’s Anya?”

 

“Why? Want to finish what you started? Have sex with every woman in Sunnydale, whether they want it or not?”

 

“I have some things to say to her. My business. She’s a good lady. There’s nothing between us.”

 

Xander threw some wood aside, picked up a book he’d uncovered, didn’t know what to do with it, and tossed it back on the ground. “Her apartment. I think she’s there. 22 Beach, Apartment 3A. Tell her I said hi.”

 

Spike headed for the door, then paused. “What I did with Anya, that’s our business. But I know you loved her. I’m sorry you got hurt.”

 

“Why, aren’t you the magnanimous one? Hey, I’m sorry I got hurt, too. Doesn’t change things.”

 

“Another thing. You treated me not too bad, back when you took me in, and I treated you like shit. I’m sorry.” He looked Xander straight in the eye. “You have no idea how much I wanted to be one of you.”

 

Before Xander could register his shock, Spike was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

This was the address Xander had given him. He pressed the buzzer beside 3A and waited. “Yes?” a tinny voice said over the intercom.

 

“Anya?” he replied. “It’s me, Spike. Can I talk to you?”

 

“Spike? When did you get back?” He heard a buzz and click as the lobby door unlocked. “Come up.”

 

He ascended the stairs to the third floor. The building was clean, practical and efficient. Not unlike Anya. He paused in front of her door and knocked. “It’s open,” she called.

 

He turned the handle and pulled. She was sitting on the couch, reading a romance novel, wearing blue lounging pajamas. He waved. “Hi, Anya.”

 

“Hi Spike. Going to stand there all day?” She saw him shrug his shoulders and realized the problem. “For goodness sake, Spike, I'm a demon. You don't need an invitation.”

 

“Just bein’ polite.” He stepped over the threshold. “Nice place.”

 

“Thanks.” She put the book on the coffee table and looked up at her visitor. “Why are you here? For that matter, how did you find me?”

 

“Xander told me. He was working at the Magic Box. What happened there? He said something about Willow.”

 

“Willow went evil. Trashed my store, trashed Giles, tried to trash Buffy. Who couldn’t have taken Andrew and Jonathan to the Expresso Pump? Oh, no. Had to come to the Magic Box.”

 

Spike was confused. “Andrew and Jonathan?”

 

“I guess you want the short version.” She stood up and walked over to the kitchenette. “Want a drink?” When Spike shook his head, she pulled a diet soda out of the fridge and continued. “Andrew and Jonathan were friends of Warren. Warren killed Tara. Willow went nuts. My shop got caught in the middle. It was my fault, for helping Buffy.”

 

“How is Buffy?”

 

“Okay, I guess. I haven’t seen her much this summer. I guess I would have, if Dawn had been working off her debt like she was supposed to. That point is moot.”

 

“And Willow?”

 

“Giles took her to England. They just got back.” She poured her soda into a glass. “I hope she doesn’t expect me to trust her now.” She brought the glass to her lips, then paused. “Why did you want to see me?”

 

“To say I was sorry.” He looked down at the floor, suddenly fascinated with the pattern on her Persian rug. “We’re adults. I know that. But what happened shouldn’t have happened. Like usual, it was all about Buffy for me, and that’s not fair to you.” He looked up at her, without meeting her eyes. “Xander says you didn’t get back together. I hope that’s not my fault.”

 

She laughed, then took a big gulp of her soda. “Nothing to do with you. Besides the fact that I respect myself too much to put up with his crap anymore, he doesn’t love me. He loves Willow.” She smiled, and her demon face slipped out. “And she’s a lesbian. Very satisfying vengeance.” Her human face resurfaced. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Don’t worry.” She touched his cheek. “You weren’t that bad.” Her hand jerked back from the contact with his skin. “A soul. Now that I didn’t expect.”

 

“Don’t tell anyone. Please.”

 

She smiled. “I don’t see any of them, except for Giles. We have to go over store business.”

 

“Then don’t tell Giles.”

 

She looked at him with curiosity. “Why not?”

 

“I want to.”


	7. Chapter 7

He checked the address on the piece of paper in his hand. The small townhouse was a letdown from Giles’ old place. Anya had said he’d only planned to be there a month, and took what he could get. He suspected the ex-watcher was strapped for cash, since he had no Buffy to watch. He wondered if he was still working for the Council.

 

He pressed the buzzer, surprised when the door was opened by the young redhead. “Yes?” she said, cautiously. Then she realized who it was. “Oh. Spike. You’re back.”

 

“Yeah. Just. Giles in?”

 

“In the shower.” He knew she’d gone to England with Giles, but was surprised they were still together. Surely not the middle aged librarian and the lesbian schoolgirl? He drove that image from his mind.

 

“Can I come in?” He shifted his weight. Wasn’t sure what to say. “I heard about Tara. I’m sorry.”

 

“So am I. And no, you can’t.” She pressed her hand against an invisible barrier. “And I can’t get out. So if you want to talk, talk here.”

 

“I don’t understand. What happened?”

 

“Well, the official story is that little Willow’s a magic junkie. Or a great source of simmering evil. Take your pick.” She looked down at her hands. “I just never knew losing someone you love could hurt so much.”

 

“I did.”

 

She smiled at that. “Yeah. I guess you do. Understand.” She gestured to the inside of the house. “I’ve been in England, learning to control my magicks. I’m back, but I’m on probation. Well, house arrest, at the moment. If I’m very good, I get to leave the house tomorrow and take a walk around the block. Supervised. By the way, did you hear I’m a vicious killer?”

 

“Something like that. Been there.”

 

“Done that?” She sighed. “I should go back inside. The spell keeps me in, but it doesn’t keep the bugs out.

 

“Red?” She paused before shutting the door. “I just wanted to tell you. You’ve always treated me like a person. Even when I was wretched to you, kidnapping you, trying to kill you. Pushing you away. Surprised you even talked to me. Just wanted to say I was sorry.”

 

She narrowed her eyes. “That the soul talking?”

 

Spike’s lips pressed into a thin line, before letting a breath of air out through his nose. “What? Is it stamped on my forehead?”

 

“I see things, Spike. Some I want to, some I don’t. You glow in Technicolor. Couldn’t miss it if I wanted to.” She reached for the door handle again. “I really have to go.”

 

“Mind if I sit here on the doorstep for a while?”

 

“Um, I guess not. Why?”

 

“I want to talk to Giles.”


	8. Chapter 8

He’d lost track of time. How many people had he visited tonight? Was it anywhere near dawn? He didn’t own a wristwatch. He didn’t know a vampire who owned a wristwatch. Strange.

 

He was about to stand up and leave when the front door flew open. “A soul? How extraordinary,” Giles exclaimed, his hair still wet and unkempt from the shower.

 

“Red’s got a big mouth.” He looked at the ex-watcher, whose face was bright with excitement. “Yeah. A soul. Want to hear the story?”

 

“I most certainly would.” Giles headed back into the house, pausing when he realized that he wasn’t followed. “Oh, of course. How foolish of me. Come in, Spike.” He gestured to the sofa, where Spike sat, then asked, “Would you like a cuppa tea?”

 

“I wouldn’t say no. Thanks.” While Giles bustled about the kitchen, Spike inspected the living room. Sparse furnishings, nothing like the apartment Giles had before. No real personal touches. The place screamed impermanence.

 

Giles brought the tea and sat it on the coffee table. “This really isn’t me, is it? I’m only staying until Willow’s ready to be on her own. Slowly weaning her back into society. She hated England.”

 

“I heard a bit about what happened. Can’t judge her. If Warren’d shot Buffy, I might a done the same, chip or no.”

 

“Warren did shoot Buffy.”

 

Spike froze, his teacup suspended near his lips. “No one...Is she...?”

 

“She’s fine. Willow saved her, from what I understand, or we would have lost her again.”

 

“I’m grateful to her then. And Warren deserved to die. Sorry I can’t be more remonstrative.”

 

“To be honest, I agree with you.” Giles sipped his tea. “However, the brutality of his death cannot be ignored. She stripped the skin from his living flesh. She tried to destroy the world, and damn near succeeded. Buffy would have died then, along with the rest of us. Willow was in extreme need of help.”

 

“And now?”

 

Giles sat the cup on the table. “She seems to be better. Coping with her grief. Understanding the enormity of her actions. But I don’t plan on leaving her in the immediate future. She isn’t ready to be on her own yet.”

 

“You’re good at that. Takin’ in strays. I never thanked you.” His expression was serious. “I was a bloody inconvenience, at best, and I treated you badly. I’m sorry.”

 

“Well, I did chain you up in my bathtub. It was hardly the Regency Hotel.”

 

“Here.” Spike pulled a battered wallet from his back pocket, and pulled out some bills. “Here’s a hundred. It’s all I’ve got. I never shoulda charged you for that Fyarl thing.”

 

“Put away your money. It was a fair deal, and I’m only glad to have survived the incident. All I really want to know is how you got that soul of yours.”

 

Spike leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “I had to do somethin’. Couldn’t live like I was. It was getting so painful. I did something, something I can never forgive, to Buffy. She may well stake me when she sees me, and she wouldn’t be wrong. I’d heard about a demon, in Africa, could give you your heart’s desire, if you paid the price. He gave me my soul.”

 

“I know what happened. Xander told me.”

 

Spike glared. “He wasn’t there. None ‘a his business. What, did he take out a bloody billboard?” He looked down at his hands. “Did Buffy...?”

 

“Buffy won’t talk about it. Says it’s between her and you, and I respect that.”

 

“I must say, I don’t know what to make a that.” The vampire yawned. “I should be goin’.”

 

“It’s late. Or early, rather. And I would like to hear a bit more about Africa tonight, if you’re able. Look, there’s another couch downstairs. Why don’t you stay over tonight? No, don’t protest, I’ll have none of it. Sleep through the day if you like; you look like you could use it. Besides, it’ll do Willow good to see someone besides me.”

 

“Someone who understands a bit a what she’s goin’ through?” Spike smiled. “Thanks Rupe. I owe you. Again.”


	9. Chapter 9

He opened his eyes in the unfamiliar room. When he stretched, he felt the rough back of the sofa. He remembered that he was in Giles’ basement. He sensed he wasn’t alone.

 

“Hello, Spike.”

 

“Buffy.” For a moment he wondered if it were a dream. He’d had it so often. Sometimes it ended with a kiss, sometimes a stake. He stared at her, unblinking. She was real. “Did Giles call you?” He sat up on the couch, sitting close to one edge.

 

She sat on the other. “Clem was looking for you. I tracked you down. Didn’t you want to see me?”

 

“Clem.” He brushed the hair back from his eyes with his fingers. “I told him I’d be back. I’m such a git.”

 

“He was worried. He cares about you. A lot.” She looked at him, slightly bedraggled, longish hair mussed with sleep. “You didn’t answer my question.”

 

“I wanted to see you. I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.” He looked away from her eyes, down at her hands. Had to keep some part of her in his line of vision. “I’m sorry. That doesn’t mean much, considering, but I am.”

 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think this summer. About everything. About us.” She concentrated on his face. “Look at me. I said I didn’t trust you. That wasn’t true. So what you did shook me pretty deep.” She breathed in deeply, struggling to go on. “Did I ever tell you what happened with Angel at Crawford Street, after you left with Dru? Didn’t think so. He got his soul back. Trusted me. Loved me. I kissed him, told him to close his eyes, then I ran him through with my sword. I ran my lover through the heart.”

 

“You had to. Acathla...”

 

“I’m not finished. I see things, past things, things I’ve done. Things that flash behind my eyes whenever I try to sleep. Now, that’s progress. For the last year, mostly all I’ve thought of was me, my problems. Anyway, lately the big one is a bruised, battered face. The man who loves me, lying in the alley. My...my lover. It’s not a pretty sight. A lot of last year is one big string of not so pretty sights.”

 

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t let you do. That’s different.”

 

“Right. Humiliating you in front of Riley, hiding you from my friends, all your choice. Not.” Her face tightened with pain. “What you did was wrong, horrible and wrong, and we both know that. I forgive you. The question is, can you forgive me?”

 

“Nothing to forgive.” No swelling music, no dramatic lighting, just awkward silence.

 

“Did you get the soul for me?”

 

“Yeah. Giles told?”

 

“Giles told. Did it hurt?”

 

“Like hell.” He looked into her eyes, afraid of what he’d find. “Does it make a difference?”

 

“Yes. And no.” She smiled, just a half smile. “You still seem to be you. That’s good. I would have missed you. And it’s such a pain getting used to new people.”

 

“I’ll never hurt you again.”

 

She laughed at that. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. We all hurt each other. Nothing to do with a soul. Just being human.”

 

“Buffy...?”

 

“Yeah. There’s a chance.” She reached out her hand to his, their fingers intertwining. “A good chance.”


	10. Chapter 10

He was sitting on the top of the sepulcher, scribbling furiously, his papers supported by the back of a book, when he felt the hand on his shoulder and jumped.

 

“Sorry,” Buffy said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She looked around the crypt. “Where’s Clem?”

 

“He went to a movie.” Sitting his work down beside him, he looked up at her. “Lookin’ for him?”

 

“Not really. Just wondered.” She picked up the papers. “What’s this?”

 

“Letters. I write letters.”

 

“Hey, this one’s to Harmony. ‘Sorry I was a total bastard.’ Harsh. ‘It wasn’t fair to make you dress in Buffy’s clothes.’ Whoa. What?”

 

He snatched the letters from her hand. “That’s private.”

 

She stood glaring at him, her hands on her hips. He waited for the blow. It never came. Buffy started laughing, a slight chuckle in her throat that soon cascaded into a deep belly laugh. She doubled over, not even trying to contain herself. “You...Harm...me...blue sweater?”

 

“I’m so glad you’re amused.”

 

“Oh, am. Much.” She wiped her eyes, and sucked in a breath. “There was a time that would have led to major stakeage. Or a good nose punch. Now...” She suppressed another guffaw. “Now I’m kind of flattered. I think.” She tried to gain her composure. “That letter...You’re in touch with Harmony?”

 

“No. I’m just writing for my own benefit. I’ll be happy never to meet her again. Nothin’ she’ll ever see. I did mail one, though. To Angel.”

 

“Really?” Her eyes narrowed. “What did you tell him?”

 

“Well, I couldn’t think of anything to apologize for, but I did want to share a few things. About the soul. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him about us. Figured that was your place.” He sat back down. “So I guess he’ll never know.”

 

“He does know.” She sat beside him. “I told him. Called him a few days ago. You think you had a bad summer; you should hear about his.” She put her hand on Spike’s. “I told him almost everything. Last year, you leaving, how I felt when you came back. He took it surprisingly well. Might be the ‘being in love with someone else’ thing.” Her hand clasped over his. “Angel and I have both moved on.” She gave his fingers a squeeze and then stood up. “I’ll see you later. Come for supper tomorrow night. I think you and Dawn have some things to work out.”

 

“I will. Come for supper, I mean. Thanks.” He looked down at his ink stained fingers. “Buffy?”

 

“Spike?” She leaned over, tipped his chin up with her fingertips, and brushed her lips lightly against his cheek. “Tomorrow night. Seven o’clock.” With that she disappeared out the door.

 

He sighed, and pulled a blank page from the back of his papers, beginning to write:

 

“Dear Dru,

 

I wanted you to know. I loved you. Loved you with everything I had for more than a hundred years. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.

 

You knew, even before I did. It’s why you took up with Angelus, I think. From the day I first saw the Slayer, my heart was not my own. How that must have hurt.

 

You were good to me, as much as you could be. You gave me great happiness. You were my mother, my lover, my child, my glorious evil queen. The days I spent with you were precious.

 

I’m sorry for the last time we met. Sorry I threatened to kill you. I was desperate with love for her, but you know that. You understood me better than anyone.

 

I got a soul Dru. For her. I know how that must make you laugh. You know what I said about Angel. But I want you to know it was the right thing. I think I may have a chance now, to be happy again.

 

I can only wish the same for you.

 

Love,

Spike.”

 

He read the letter, walked over to his table, dipped the edge of the paper in the candle’s flame, and watched it burn.

 

“She’ll never get it now.” He spun around, to see Buffy looking intently at him. “I forgot something.”

 

“Yeah?” He looked at the crypt floor, not seeing anything out of place. “What?”

 

“This.” She stepped towards him, slowly. She reached out for him, pulled him close, rested her head on his chest and sighed. When she looked up at him, his eyes were fearful, reluctant, but she gently rested her hand on the back of his head and pulled him down into the kiss. It was deep, luscious, and she never wanted it to end.

 

He pulled back. “Buffy. I don’t...”

 

“I’m not using you. Not any more. If you don’t want this, I’ll go.” When he didn’t respond further, she turned and started to walk away. “Dinner,” she called. “Tomorrow night. Don’t forget.”

 

“Buffy.” The word stopped her. “Don’t go.”

 

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, spreading into a sunburst as she ran into his arms.

 

*

 

The quality of mercy is not strained; it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed: it blesseth him that gives and him that takes. Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes the throned monarch better than his crown.

 

But mercy is above this sceptered sway, it is enthroned in the heart of kings, it is an attribute to God himself; and earthly power doth then showest likest God’s when mercy seasons justice.


	11. Chapter 11

He stood in front of the tombstone in shocked silence. ‘Tara McClay. 1981 - 2002. Beloved.’

 

“My God, witch.” He exclaimed. “What happened?”

 

Images flashed into his mind. Tara at the party, teasing. Seemingly knowing more than he thought anyone would. Offering ice for his ‘cramp’. Driving with her in the camper, her shattered mind spouting out tattered phrases, while Willow looked on like her heart would burst. Hitting her in the nose, just so they could get on with things.

 

“I’m sorry, pet. Sorry I hit you. I mean, it turned out okay, but it must have hurt. Wish I’d thought of another way.”

 

What was Willow going through? How could she cope? Did she pour herself into helping someone else, the way he had with Dawn when he lost Buffy? Had she fallen apart?

 

And what the hell had happened? How could such a vibrant thing be dead?

 

“I wasn’t here. I’m sorry for that too. I don’t know what happened, but maybe I could have stopped it. Saved you.”

 

Poor Dawn. Tara had been like a mother to her, this last year when Buffy was so distant. He had to take some responsibility for that, too. And she and Buffy had been friends. So much pain his Slayer had to bear.

 

He realized with regret that he would never see her shy smile again. Realized how much he would miss it. Realized that he had lost a friend. Realized that he was kneeling on her gravesite; that there were tears in his eyes.

 

He stood up and wiped the grass from his knees. Obviously, he wasn’t the only thing in Sunnydale that had changed.

 

Time to head home; regroup. He’d think about what he would tell the others.


End file.
